


Defense Mechanisms

by Strings (fangirlgeekout)



Series: Discovery & Laughter [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Massage, Post-Season/Series 05, TWP - Tickles Without Plot, Tickling, Ticklish Castiel, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlgeekout/pseuds/Strings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean isn’t a exactly professional masseur, but he tries. He also seems incapable of allowing Cas to stay relaxed. Like, seriously incapable.</p><p>---</p><p>  <i>"I am familiar with the concept of massage. I haven’t experienced it firsthand but I can see how it’s an effective form of relaxation for the human body."</i></p><p>  <i>Dean’s eyes widened. “You’ve never had one?”</i></p><p>  <i>"No." Cas started to get concerned that Dean may try to "fix" this the same way as when he’d revealed he had never had sex. That hadn’t exactly ended well.</i></p><p>  <i>"Get up," Dean ordered. "Right now. Shirt off." He scrambled off the bed and headed toward the bathroom. "I’m gonna give you the best damn massage you’ve ever had."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Defense Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Not incredibly important, but post-season 5. Attempting-a-normal-life Dean makes me a bit sad, so for the purpose of this fic, that year didn’t happen. Sam wasn’t lost in the Pit, and Cas hasn’t gone down the path toward his power trip. He has been divinely rebooted, though - all angel-fied once again.
> 
> Originally posted Nov 2013 on [Tumblr](http://wordstrings.tumblr.com/post/68604547903/defense-mechanisms).

Castiel stepped out of the bathroom, finished smoothing his trenchcoat’s shoulders over the coat hanger and hooked it over the bar in the hotel room closet. The lights from the parking lot shone softly through the two sets of curtains in their corner room. They’d checked into a nicer hotel for once, breaking the neverending string of seedy motels and questionable bedsheets. The simple fact that this place had closets felt like a considerable step up, not to mention the king size bed and enormous bathroom. Sam was probably languishing in the piping hot shower in his room next door.

_Whump._

Cas hit the pillowtop mattress face-first, propelled by the unexpected weight that launched itself at his back. He would have been winded had he been human, he thought, slightly perturbed. He didn’t bother struggling - just laid there and waited for Dean to remove himself.

”I suppose spending the evening in peace was an irrational expectation.”

"You’re no fun," Dean scowled.

"You find me plenty of fun."

"Yeah, you’re a regular barrel of monkeys."

Cas’ brows furrowed. “What do your primate cousins have to do with this?”

Dean huffed and rolled off the angel’s back. “At least you got changed this time. We’re making progress.”

Cas adjusted into a sitting position. “They _are_ … comfortable,” he decided, looking down at the plain tee and pajama pants he was wearing. A gift from Dean that had come with no other explanation than, “ _Just put them on, dammit.”_

The hunter looked up at him from where he was still laying, askew on the bed. “Well, you need the practice.”

"Practice," Cas repeated questioningly.

"Being comfortable." Dean shimmied over until he could lay his head on Cas’ lap. The angel habitually started carding through his hair with one hand. "Doing things that feel good just because you want to."

"You know I don’t require-"

"Shut up, Cas."

Castiel quieted, continuing to stroke through the hunter’s hair. After a moment, he asked, “What do you do to be comfortable, Dean?”

"I dunno… Listen to good music in the car. Eat pie. Watch TV. Have a beer."

"Consuming things, in one way or another," Cas concluded.

"Well, yeah, but… There’s other good stuff, too. Like, family. A day when I don’t have to kill anything. Massages. Especially at those little Asian places where-" He grinned to himself, then glanced up. "Nevermind."

"I am familiar with the concept of massage. I haven’t experienced it firsthand but I can see how it’s an effective form of relaxation for the human body."

Dean’s eyes widened. “You’ve never had one?”

"No." Cas started to get concerned that Dean may try to "fix" this the same way as when he’d revealed he had never had sex. That hadn’t exactly ended well.

"Get up," Dean ordered. "Right now. Shirt off." He scrambled off the bed and headed toward the bathroom. "I’m gonna give you the best damn massage you’ve ever had."

Cas stopped himself from correcting the obvious logical fallacy. He pulled the cotton tee over his head as Dean returned with the little hotel bottle of hand lotion.

"Alright, lay down… the other way… Good." Off popped the cap, and a shock of cold hit Cas’ back. He gasped.

"Sorry," Dean chuckled. He twisted the silver ring off his right hand and stretched toward the bedside table to set it down, then straddled the angel’s hips.

Cas suppressed a shiver as the chilled fluid was spread across his back, gradually warming to his body temperature. The discomfort faded, and he was able to concentrate on the warm, solid pressure of Dean’s hands. Up his spine, across the top of his shoulders, kneading along his upper arms before returning to his back. His vessel did not require this treatment, but… it felt _really_ nice.

Dean pressed, rubbed, and smoothed until his hands started feeling fatigued. He glanced at the clock and noted with satisfaction how Cas had been perfectly motionless for at least ten minutes. The angel’s eyes were closed, his breathing low and steady. Dean started easing out on his pressure, running his palms gently across the whole surface from top to bottom.

A sedated sigh escaped Cas’ lips, and his eyes fluttered open. Dean smirked. “ _Comfortable_?” he asked, lightening his touch another step and pushing his fingertips up the full length of Cas’ back.

The breathy “ _yes_ " prodded the smirk into a full smile. He idled around the angel’s shoulders, drawing small circles with his fingers. "See, just because you don’t _need_ something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have it once in a while. Or whenever you get the craving. Or, you know, all the time.”

Cas twitched when the fingertips brushed between his shoulder blades. “ _To every thing there is a season_ ,” he started to mumble. The fingers traced over the same spot, causing another twinge. “ _And a time to every purpose under Heaven_ -” Twitch. He looked sideways up at Dean, who was trying his best to look innocent. “Must you really…?”

The hunter’s face broke into a flippant grin. “Oh yes, I must.”

The traitorous fingers spidered in the dip between Castiel’s shoulders. Cas squeaked and tensed, undoing every bit of loosening the massage had accomplished.

Dean tickled all the way down either side of the angel’s backbone, adoring the little gasps of laughter it elicited. The response spiraled up into giggles and snorts when he went after Cas’ neck. He loved taking his angel apart like this. Each stroke undid a stitch in the seams of the indomitable composure, until a wriggling, giggling ball of delight was all that was left. He knew Cas would tell him to stop when he couldn’t take any more. Until then, he’d scrabble happily away and savor each and every undignified sound that came bubbling out.

He descended back down between the angel’s shoulders, exploring the surrounding skin for just the right spot. When Cas’ laughter jumped an entire octave, he knew he’d found it. Right along the edges of his shoulder blades. He grinned and traced them lightly, wiggling his fingers as they went. Cas practically spasmed and fell into a fresh fit of cackles.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up at the dramatic response. “Whoa, easy there,” he admonished jokingly. A high-pitched squeal was all he got in response. He chuckled and redoubled his efforts.

Castiel squirmed frantically, pushing against the mattress in an attempt to flip himself back over. He was finding it more and more difficult to even laugh properly. Which, he was vaguely aware, was an odd thought, considering he hadn’t been too familiar with what constituted “proper laughter” until relatively recently, thanks to Dean. But right now, it felt like all the air had fled his lungs, and wheezing giggles were all he could manage.

He desperately wanted to warn Dean, but the words wouldn’t form.

  
  
  
**_WHAM._ **

A thunderous concussion flung Dean backwards.

A flurry of darkness exploded across the hunter’s vision as he slammed onto his back.

Stunned and winded, it took him a few panicked seconds to realize he was blinking up at the ceiling. The intact, not-on-fire, no-demons-swirling-around-it ceiling. Dean was still on the mattress, but just barely. He cast an exploratory glance sideways. Everything else in the room was unchanged.

It was also deathly silent.

 _Cas_.

Heart thudding in his throat, Dean scrambled up on his elbows, blinking away the residual dizziness.

He stared.

A huge expanse of darkness covered the top half of the bed, stretching over the bedside tables, almost touching the walls on either side. The deep black surface heaved, dim light reflecting off the myriad soft planes. _Feathers_.

"…Cas?" Dean’s voice croaked out a whisper. Slowly, gingerly, he sat up, trying to process what he was seeing.

Castiel’s wings shuddered almost imperceptibly, and gradually began folding inwards.

"Whoa," Dean breathed. The wings continued their slow collapse. "Whoa, hey, wait a minute." He crawled forward cautiously, moving up toward Cas’ torso. "Are you alright?"

An indistinguishable mumble floated out from beneath the heavy wings.

"What?"

"I’m sorry." It was so quiet that Dean strained to hear it.

"Seriously, are you okay?"

"Yes, Dean. I wanted to warn you, I tried, but I just couldn’t…" Cas’ voice trailed off.

"Shh, it’s alright."

The left wing lowered just enough to reveal Castiel’s face, unmoved from its earlier position half-buried in the pillow. There was something like embarrassment in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-“

"Hey, I’m fine." Dean smiled hesitantly. He eyed the wings - the tangible, honest-to-God wings - that loomed over the bed. "Are they, uh, like a… defense mechanism, or something?"

"Or something."

He reached out a hand, then stopped. “Is it okay if I…”

The angel nodded.

Dean exhaled, and timidly laid a palm on the feathered surface close to Cas’ shoulder. It was surprisingly warm. He slid his hand delicately outward, thoroughly captivated by each feather that passed under his fingers.

"I was never sure if they were real," he murmured. "Physical, I mean."

He recalled the moment when he first wondered if these actually existed. The shadow in that barn had given him a loose idea of their size, but here, in the confines of a hotel room, they were immense. The notion of little fluffy white cherub wings seemed absurd next to these dark, powerful extensions of the angel’s divine might.

Lost in awe, he slipped his fingers under the feathers, intertwining with them, feeling the soft barbs brush between his fingers.

A low sigh broke Dean’s trance. He looked up toward the source of the sound.

Cas’ eyes were closed, lips parted softly against the pillow.

One corner of the hunter’s mouth tugged upwards. He smoothly maneuvered himself up and over the angel’s back, resuming his prior position. He leaned down and nuzzled gently into Cas’ neck. His hands stretched outwards, caressing the long black feathers as they moved.

He felt Cas shiver under him. His fingers worked back into the softness, weaving around the shafts and searching out the silky down that laid beneath.

Castiel felt dizzy. He shivered a second time as the fingertips traced out their paths along and around and under his feathers, the sensation tingling down into the flesh below. It was intoxicating. If he were human, he mused, he’d have thought this must be Heaven. Could he get a Heaven of his own, like the rest of humanity, if he died? If he did, it definitely needed to have Dean in it. Doing this. Maybe they could share. He wondered if he ever made Dean happy enough to want to share Heaven with him.

The hunter’s lips brushed the skin just behind his ear, something between a kiss and a nibble. He hummed with pleasure. The lips trailed across his neck, following his hairline. Fingers were still stroking through his wings and sending tendrils of euphoria to his core. Cas wondered if he could melt and explode at the same time. He settled for squirming lightly into the pillow in breathless rapture.

Dean smiled against the angel’s neck. If ever there was a physical embodiment of the word “bliss,” he was lying on top of it. It was beautiful. Warm and feathery and purring and _beautiful_. He nipped once more, ruffled his hands through the feathers, and sat up.

A moment passed before Cas’ eyes drifted open. The dimly lit room wouldn’t come into focus for a few blinks. His face felt flushed. He took a steadying breath before looking over his shoulder at the hunter hovering over him. Who was wearing the biggest grin he’d ever seen.

Dean looked gleefully down at his wrecked handiwork. “ _I_ did that,” he declared proudly. Cas was about to ask what he meant, but he was already pouncing back down, curling his arms under the mussed black wings and snuggling into the space between them.

"Mmm, I like these." He buried his nose in the short feathers close to the base. Muffled, he continued, "Why haven’t you brought them out before?" Then he was pulling back slightly, huffing and spitting at stray black fuzz that clung to his lips.

Cas cleared his throat to ensure his voice still worked. “I thought they might… ‘freak you out’,” he answered.

Dean pulled one hand up to pick a stubborn strand of fluff out of his mouth. “Well, the introduction was a little rocky. But I think we’re gonna be good friends.” He slipped his hand back under the wing, absentmindedly massaging at the warm flesh under the down.

The next thing he knew, he faceplanted into the mattress. Dean grunted at the light impact. He pushed himself up on his elbow, looking disapprovingly across the room where Cas had zapped himself almost into the bathroom. “Do you mind? We were having a _moment_.”

One wing was twitching as the pair finished folding tightly behind Castiel’s back. “I’m sorry. You… surprised me.”

"I _surprised_ -” Dean’s eyes narrowed, then crinkled slightly at the corners, betraying the smile he tried to keep hidden. “Come back to bed, angelcakes,” he drawled.

Cas didn’t move.

"Don’t make me come get you."

Cas hesitated a beat longer before walking back across the room, not taking his eyes off the hungry-looking hunter waiting for him. He sat cautiously on his side of the bed.

"Don’t be a prude."

He sighed and shifted closer, laying down on his side to face Dean.

"Very good." The hunter moved forward and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. Then swiftly grabbed his shoulders and flipped him down on his back, clambering over his hips yet again. He swooped down, dangerously close. "So… what are you trying to hide from me?"

Cas decided that, in that moment, Lucifer and Michael be damned - nothing was as terrifying as Dean Winchester.

Dean began pinching teasingly at the edges of the wings pinned behind his body. Cas shrugged up and pushed against the hunter’s chest, unable to stop his lips from twitching up at the corners. Suddenly fingers were skittering up his sides, searching for that one spot toward the back of his ribcage. Cas yelped and arched, and that was all the opening Dean needed to grab his wings and yank them out. He heaved forward and settled his weight higher on the angel’s trunk to prevent them being drawn in again.

Cas was already giggling and fighting Dean’s hands. “No no no nononono _no_ -“

"Let me make one thing clear," Dean grunted, grappling with him. "If you zap out, or mojo me, or - _OW_! - or try _anything_ shady - I’ll make sure you regret it for a _very_ long time. Now stop hitting me!” he laughed.

Cas shook his head wildly. “Dean, no- nohohoAAAAAH!”

Vicious fingers breached his defenses and attacked, spidering wickedly across the exposed undersides of his wings. He _shrieked_.

“ _PLEAhehehehease_!” Castiel arched violently, briefly concerned that he might snap his vessel’s spine. He utterly collapsed, squealing and cackling and writhing in frenzied hysterics.

Dean was eternally grateful for the way Cas lost all coordination when tickled. Otherwise, he’d probably be through the wall and unconscious on Sam’s floor. Scratch that, he’d probably be _vaporized_. But seeing this would definitely be worth it, he thought. Cas’ head was tossed back, mouth wide open and screaming out delirious laughter. Tears streaked down from his screwed-shut eyes as he thrashed madly. If he’d personified Bliss before, _this_ was Desperation incarnate.

It took a few minutes for Dean to differentiate the thumping on the wall from the frantic pounding of Cas’ various limbs on the bed. “Sorry, Sammy!” he hollered over the angel’s hysteria. “Be done soon!”

—-

It could have been moments later or hours later - Cas truly had no idea - when he realized Dean was next to him, not on top of him. He was still trembling and flinching erratically, breath coming in stuttered gasps.

"You were starting to turn an interesting color," Dean commented. He laid a palm on Cas’ chest and rubbed soothingly. "I almost thought I broke you."

A stray half-giggle escaped as he weakly grabbed the hunter’s wrist. “You… you are _never_ allowed to do that again.”

"Who says I need permission?"

"You do if you value your sanity."

Dean cocked one eyebrow and slipped an arm over the angel’s midriff. “You do realize you never follow your own advice when it comes to threats, right?”

Cas just smiled and pulled him in closer.


End file.
